In This Moment
by MrsRen
Summary: It's supposed to be a ploy to get Granger to notice what's been in front of her the entire time. There's only two things wrong with that: she's brilliant, something he's vastly underestimated, and such as his luck, the entire thing goes tits up.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, welcome to the beginning of a two part story from yours truly. I promise this will be the only long note, but you might read so you know what you're getting into! **

**This is a triad story with Draco/Hermione/Harry. This is a Muggle AU, and it was supposed to be a smutty small thing, but instead there were feelings. Whoops. It's written entirely in Draco's perspective. **

**There will be explicit sexual content between all three of our characters, including male/male smut. THis isn't something I've ever written before, so when we get to that, please let me know what I can do to improve. You're welcome to message me about that. :) **

**In This Moment was written for msmerlin, who prompted this fic when I was in a bit of a funk. Truthfully, I took the prompt **_**Draco invites his two crushes—who fancy themselves as amateur ghost hunters—to stay in the haunted wing of his manor in order to get closer to them**_ **very liberally. Hope you like it! It'll be real awkward if you don't. **

**Summary: It's supposed to be a ploy to get Granger to notice what's been in front of her the entire time. There's only two things wrong with that: she's brilliant, something he's vastly underestimated, and such as his luck, the entire thing goes tits up. **

* * *

It's pretty simple, really, when he stops to think about it. The fact that she hasn't seen it herself is astounding—especially given the fact that this is _her_ and she's irritatingly brilliant. Potter's noticed without fail, but he's not going to spell it out for her.

"_She's my best mate, and I'd rather not fuck that up because you want in her knickers." _

Apparently, Potter's choosing to not mention the fact that he _also _wants in her knickers. It's been frequent pillow talk for them—both during and after their tumbles. They've shared a woman before, more than once even, but this is Granger. A good girl, Potter points out as he says she wouldn't be into this sort of thing.

Draco's seen the way her breathing hitches when he enters the sitting room of Potter's flat without a shirt. Her eyes linger after sweeping over them, and she squirms in her seat. He's certain she's not just the _good girl_ Harry claims.

While he's been waiting for an opportunity to present itself, Draco's had plenty of time to think of just what he'd like to do with her—well, both of them, actually. He and Harry aren't together, not exclusively anyway, but they've always gone back to the other. It's an unspoken promise, and Draco knows that's probably why he's so worried about trying to bring Granger into it.

"_Say we do this," Harry whispers after they stumble into bed, after spewing all sorts of nonsense while he's being fucked into the mattress and logic rushes up to meet him again. "You and me, we're a constant thing. I always come back to you. You always come back to me. Hermione is—I think it would be all or nothing with her."_

Draco agrees, but he doesn't say that he thinks he could be happy with that arrangement. It's always been Harry. Like he's said, there's been one-offs in between, but they've never discussed bringing in a third party to their relationship. The only time it could have come up was after a weekend they spent with Theo and even then, it was Draco who shut it down.

Theo still looks to Potter longingly, and it makes his stomach twist.

But Granger—she's different.

* * *

It starts in the middle of a boring Saturday afternoon. Granger is lounging on the sofa with a basket of chips sitting on her stomach while tossing them in the air for Harry to catch in his mouth as he lays on the floor. There are crumbs everywhere, all over her, the carpet, and Potter's red jumper.

It's horrifying how much the two of them turn him on.

Rain pelts the windows, and Potter finally manages to catch one in his mouth. Granger squeals a laugh and holds one out, letting him eat from her hand directly, and she doesn't notice when Potter's mouth lingers a moment too long.

But Draco does, and he's able to see a flash of his tongue brushing the tip of her finger.

It's fucking _chips_ but his cock twitches in his trousers. Not willing to embarrass himself unnecessarily, Draco plops a decorative pillow onto his lap. Granger brushes her hair from her face and sits up.

She bundles it up, tying it into a ridiculous knot on the top of her head, but it's not her hair that holds his attention. Draco leans forward, a smirk forming on his lips. "What's that on your neck?" There's a dark bruise forming at the bottom of her throat—where it meets her shoulder—and the collar of her jumper does little to cover it.

Red blooms across her cheeks. "Nothing," Granger says quickly, but she doesn't reach up to let her hair down. Then she sighs. "What is it, Malfoy? Have you never seen a love bite before?"

Harry chokes. He shoots up, and Draco watches his eyes narrow on the mark.

"I'm intimately acquainted with them." Draco's tone is a drawl. "So, I know that's not from a quick snog. That's the result of heavy petting."

She squirms, averting her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business—"

"It's really not. You don't have to tell us if you've met someone, 'Mione," Potter interrupts, and Draco honestly wants to beat him with the ridiculous pillow sitting in his lap.

Granger giggles, and Draco thinks that he wants to hear it again. "I haven't met anyone. I just… Oh, Ginny invited me to go clubbing last night."

Draco can't decide whether he's jealous that some lucky bloke got the chance to go home with her or happy that this proves that she's not the innocent, little girl Potter has built up in his head. "Anyone we know?"

She nibbles her bottom lip and squirms slightly in her seat. "Erm," her voice raises uncharacteristically high, "I don't think so."

Still on the floor, Harry's shoulders stiffen. "You can tell us anything, you know. We're the last people in the world who are going to judge you."

"Right," she snorts. "Because the two of you spend an awful lot of time shagging each other while also shagging others?" Granger blanches. "I didn't mean that the way it came out." For a moment, she looks a little fearful that they'll be angry.

"It's not the most conservative relationship," Draco breaks the tension, "but we're happy. Don't worry your bushy little head, Granger. We know you don't mean to insult us, but now that you have, you have to tell us who you shagged."

Potter shakes his head. "Don't listen to him—"

"Oliver Wood." Two words leave her in a rush, and Draco's certain he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. "We bumped into each other."

The man is a handful of years older than them. He's moved into professional football now, and Draco doesn't think he'll ever be able to watch him play again. Fuck's sake, had he been attached to her neck like a leech? Just as quickly as his anger flares, it lessens. It's hypocritical to act so angrily, especially given his own sexual preferences.

She's free to explore however she wants, he reminds himself—not that she needs permission—but he can't help the overwhelming surge of jealousy that washes over him.

Granger pushes her bangs from her face. "Can we just go back to talking about ghost hunting?"

"You don't believe in ghosts," Harry says. "Though you did get pretty scared last weekend."

Eyes hardening, she mutters, "It was a bloody _cemetery_. What did you expect?"

He shrugs. "Didn't expect you to scream like that. There's a rumour about the abandoned asylum twenty minutes from her. It's run down, falling apart."

Her face drains of colour. "Azkaban?" She nibbles her lip again, and while he also feels sorry for her, Draco can't knock the recurring thought that he wants to draw her plump bottom lip between his teeth. "Isn't that considered trespassing?"

For her display of nerves, it's a fact that Granger is an adrenaline junkie. It's the getting her there that's the hard part.

"The west wing of the manor is haunted," Draco says smoothly. "It terrified me when I was a kid, and I still won't go in it alone." Sure, it's a humiliating little fact that no one knows—not even Harry—and he knows he'll never live it down now, but it's worth the bright smile that turns her lips. "My parents are away for the week if you'd rather stay in the manor than explore an insane asylum."

Potter pins him with a glare. He knows, of course, that Draco is not offering merely out of the kindness of his heart.

Still, Granger leaps at the chance, and he sincerely hopes he's not about to fuck everything up.

* * *

She's visited the manor before. It's been the designated spot for ridiculous parties over the years, even more so when they were teenagers, but Draco still finds the way her lips part in awe unbearably cute.

"So," her lips frame the word and filthy thoughts rattle around his head, "are we just going to camp out in the west wing all weekend?"

"That's the plan," Potter answers. "I brought food."

She peeks in the bag, rifling through it. "Malfoy, is it really haunted?"

He feigns the appearance of looking bored. "I'd say so. Why? Are you scared?" He passes her, allowing his fingers to brush against her hip where Potter can't see.

Granger mutters under her breath and swipes a chocolate bar from the bag before trailing after him. She even breaks off a piece for him and waves her hand in his direction. "I asked because I wondered if you only offered because I was too frightened to go to Azkaban."

"Well," he looks over his shoulder, and it seems Potter's fucked off elsewhere already, "I _do _think it's haunted, but it won't be nearly as scary as an insane asylum. Honestly, Potter is going to give me a complex because he thinks he's so bloody indestructible." Draco pops the chocolate into his mouth.

"Thank you for offering to let us stay here then. I'm not sure why it took so much to convince Harry, but—"

_Probably because I want to shag you both until none of us can walk correctly. _

There's a vicious thump on the wall directly behind her, and she lunges toward him. He catches her, his blood rushing to his head as she nuzzles closer to him. It doesn't mean anything, he reminds himself. She's just bloody scared.

"What was that?"

He doesn't let go of her like he should; instead, Draco locks his arms around her middle. He can feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest, and then he focuses on the feel of her breasts pressed against him, even through her jumper.

He's such a fucking mess.

"Old homes like this make strange sounds all the time." Draco swallows as her fingers slide against his sides. "It's probably nothing."

She doesn't move. Who knows if it's a good thing or bad. "Sorry." Granger disentangles herself from him and brushes her hair out of her face. "I really hope Harry has more chocolate in that bag. I dropped mine."

It's so bloody _normal_ that Draco bursts into laughter. "If he doesn't, I'll order more."

Her eyebrows lift. "There's nowhere that delivers chocolate. I'd know." Granger's nose crinkles, and he's so tired of thinking everything she does is endearing without being able to say it.

"Fine, then I'll order a bloody pizza and offer a large tip if they'll bring you chocolate." He rubs his temples.

"You're sweet, Draco." She smiles, and the useless organ in his chest flips. God, Potter would laugh at him if he knew just how much she affected him.

Or maybe he wouldn't since Potter's so obviously head over heels for this woman.

It hits him then, in the middle of the corridor while there's chocolate smudged at the corner of her mouth. Draco wipes it away, allowing his thumb to glide across her soft lips, and smirks when her breath catches. Potter isn't going to laugh at him for his thinly veiled obsession with Hermione fucking Granger. He'll probably relate since it's suddenly incredibly clear just what's going on here.

Potter is in love with her. Honestly, Draco imagines he hasn't even noticed, but there it is. It's why Granger's different. And the reason the thought of Potter actually loving someone that's not him must mean—

There's another sound, but this one sounds like a rustling in the walls, and Granger looks like she's about to jump out of her skin.

"We should keep going." Draco swallows. "Potter has probably gone ahead by now. There's another entry to the wing."

Her eyes are dilated, and he has the suspicion that it's not from fear.

_I'm fucking in love with her. _

He's not sure how that happens—how you can fall in love with someone without having the mind to notice.

Draco swears it had just been a mindless obsession at first, just wanting to sink into her until she screamed, but clearly it's not all it had been.

Granger laces her fingers through his—he should think how odd it is for her to touch him—and drags him forward. She mutters that perhaps they should go _away_ from the sound, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something fucking ridiculous like he'll follow her wherever she wants to go.

* * *

She sinks into the far end of the sofa, curling up with her legs tucked beneath her. "Is this room not used anymore?"

Just like he'd thought, Potter has already made it there, and he eyes Draco carefully.

"This wing was used for entertaining mostly, but since my father's well-publicised scandal, there's no need to entertain anymore." At the mention of his father Harry's hand brushes his, and he flashes a reassuring smile. "But I've hated this part of the manor since I was a child. Aunt Bella used to chase me through the manor, so I hid here once."

Granger's face softens. "Oh, that's terrible. Was she mean?"

"That might be understating it," Draco mutters. "But that doesn't matter. This is the drawingroom. Down the corridor a ways, there's a ballroom that's not been used in the last three years, so I imagine it's as good a place as any for a haunting."

She laughs. "Harry, did you bring the Ouija board?"

Draco thinks it's going to be an incredibly long weekend.

* * *

It starts to rain again near midnight, and Granger curls up in the windowsill, resting her temple against the chilly glass.

"What took the two of you so long?"

Draco shifts on the sofa. "We were talking, and then there was a knocking in the wall."

Potter nods. "I see."

"You're angry with me, aren't you?"

He doesn't immediately reply. "I'm just trying to figure out what your plan is here. If you're trying to shag her—"

"I'm not." At the silence, Draco lowers his voice. "Or, that's not what I'm after. Of course I want to, but it's more than that now."

Harry still doesn't say anything at all, but his brows knit together. Minutes pass, and Potter scoots closer to him. His lips brush Draco's ear and his hand slides up Draco's thigh. "She's asleep," He whispers, nipping his ear.

"What's gotten into you?" Draco's question is a quiet hiss, and he watches Granger carefully in the window. She doesn't stir, not even as lighting whips across the sky just outside the window. Not even when thunder sounds and it feels like the entire sky is moments from cracking open. "This is a bad idea, you know."

Though he entertains a fantasy where Granger wakes and finds their activities _interesting_, Draco thinks for the first time that this is a truly terrible idea. He's only just rooted out the reason for his obsession, and he's not sure how he'll work through it. He should probably tell Potter, considering it involves him.

_I love you. _

_I think I've always loved you._

"What are you thinking about?"

"That I wasn't aware you had an exhibitionism kink." Draco manages.

Harry sees through it, but he doesn't call him on it. "Shh." His lips slant over Draco's, and Harry climbs into his lap.

With his legs bracketing Draco's, Harry sinks his fingers into soft, blond hair, and rocks against him. After a while, Draco forgets that he's supposed to remember why it's a terrible idea.

* * *

Thunder strikes, and the foundation shakes.

He rolls onto his side, his hip aching from the floor, and Draco notices two things. One: Potter is snoring _again_. It's not a soft, cute sound either. Two: Granger's gone. She's not in the window, nor is she draped across the sofa in the room, but the door is open a crack.

Draco braces his hands against the floor and climbs to his feet. He doesn't bother with his shoes, though he wishes he'd grabbed his socks the second he steps into the corridor. Draco doesn't have to go far before he finds her.

Granger is swaying in the middle of the ballroom, her arms wrapped around herself while she peers up at the glass ceiling. His footsteps are nearly silent as he nears her, but she hears him anyway. "You can't see the stars like this in London. There's too many lights."

He stands beside her, glancing down at her. She shouldn't look so pretty when it's the middle of the night, but she does, and his stomach twists. "This is the best place in the manor to see them unless you go outside."

Still swaying, her hip bumps his. "Hey, Malfoy?"

The sound that comes from him is non-committal at best. Truth is, he's not sure how to carry on a conversation with her when something _else_ is already on the tip of his tongue.

"You don't really think the west wing is haunted now. I believe you did when you were younger, but that's not the case now, is it?" She tilts her head up. Her tongue darts out and swipes the path of her bottom lip, and it's terribly distracting.

Slowly, too slowly, Draco nods. "You're right, but there was that bump in the walls earlier."

Granger shakes her head. "That was definitely Harry."

His thoughts swim. "You think so?"

"No, I know it was him. It's the exact sort of thing he'd do." Her fingers brush his, and Granger doesn't pull away awkwardly like he expects her to. "Don't you know why?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She gives an indelicate snort. "He wants us to get along, but I doubt that's all his aim was."

"Did you think it was Harry when you latched onto me?" Draco murmurs as he traces the inside of her wrist, and she takes an infinitesimal step closer to him.

Granger stares at her feet, and her nod is barely there. "It did frighten me at first, but I realised quickly that it had to be Harry."

His mouth is dry and swallowing only makes it worse. "So," his voice cracks, "you knew even when you continued to hang on to me?" His head spins.

Slowly, too slowly for his liking, Granger finally nods. "I don't think I'm supposed to feel this way."

The words, barely a breath above a whisper, slam into him. Air rushes from his lungs as he peers down at her.

All of a sudden, he's intimately aware of the way her fingers feel against his, the heat of her chest pressed against his as she closes the miniscule gap. Big brown eyes stare up at him, and her lower lip wobbles. _Fuck_, she's waiting for him to reply.

Draco meant to explain it to Potter first, but now she's _here_ and she's—

"I'm sorry," Granger whispers and pulls away from him. "Clearly, I've misread the situation. God, this is so embarrassing. If you could just _not_ tell Harry—though I know that's a lot to ask—"

He cradles her face, dragging his thumbs across her cheekbones. "You're not wrong."

"I'm not?" It's a breath, shallow and slow as her fingers knot in the front of his shirt.

Shaking his head, Draco dips his head down. "Definitely not wrong. I can't get you out of my head." It's never felt like a betrayal to talk to someone, to whisper sweet nothings, but this isn't _nothing_. "I should talk to Potter first."

Granger's eyes search his. She's already leaned in so closely—there's no space between them now—and he's certain she's going to stretch up and press her lips to his. It's all he's wanted for months now since she entered his head, and he can't have it without the chance of destroying everything else.

He clears his throat with some difficulty and grips her hips. "I want you, just so we're clear," Draco voices as she lays her head against his shoulder. Soft, pretty lips that he's dreamed of brush the hollow of his throat and all he can think of is that he wants to lay her against this floor and slip between her thighs.

"I feel the same, just so we're clear." Granger's tongue darts out and slides against her lower lip.

His trousers tighten. She's going to be the death of him. "That's not all I want though."

"Harry." The name escapes her with a soft exhale, and she nods. "I want him. And you. Both of you."

It's tempting to drag her down the corridor and wake Potter, but Draco only nods. "How long?"

She runs her hands up his chest, fingers trembling. The slight tremor gives her away. "I'm not sure. Long enough, I suppose."

He doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. "Potter wants you, you know. He has for a while."

"I know." The quiet admission doesn't catch him off guard. Of course, she knows. At the moment, it feels like the worst kept secret in all of Britain. "He looks at me differently. You do too. But you… You watch me."

"Noticed that, did you?" The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

"I liked it." Granger loops her arms around his neck and meets his gaze again. "Dance with me? It's a ballroom, after all."

As if he can tell her no. Draco pulls her closer, and allows his lips to brush the top of her head. "Sure, Granger, we can dance for as long as you like."

* * *

She's asleep on the sofa in the morning. Granger sleeps past noon, curled up at the end of the sofa with her legs tucked under her, and Draco thinks it must be impossible for the position to be comfortable. Unfortunately, as he's watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, Potter clears his throat as he enters the room.

He doesn't waste any time to close the gap, and he glares at Draco. "You left last night."

"She," Draco nods toward her, "was gone when I woke up. I went to find her."

"I _know_ you did." Potter doesn't take the seat beside him. He doesn't kiss him like Draco expects, and he knows that it can't mean anything good. "I went to look for you. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the ballroom? Jesus, Malfoy, do you think you're going to _dance _your way into her knickers?"

All the colour drains from Draco's face. He coughs. "That's _not_—"

"I knew you were a bastard, but I thought you understood that I didn't want—"

Draco can't think. Behind him, Granger still doesn't stir and he wishes she'd bloody wake up and explain that this is a clusterfuck of a misunderstanding. "Granger and I danced until my feet were sore. We didn't do anything else."

Harry arches a dark brow, challenging him. "The two of you were standing awfully bloody close."

"We were _dancing_. I understand you have two left feet, Potter, and you trampled my poor Italian leather when I took you dancing, but—"

"You are such a prick."

"But it's nearly impossible to sweep a woman across a room while keeping her at arm's length and if you want the truth, I would have preferred to dance with _both _of you."

A foot wedges into the bottom of his spine, and Granger mumbles, "Harry's a terrible dancer." His chest deflates as she crawls closer to them. "Please don't be angry with Malfoy."

Potter doesn't know what to say. It's written across his face as he looks from her to Draco.

"Granger, can you give us a minute?" She climbs off the couch with a nod and pecks Harry on the cheek as she goes. "What you saw last night was Granger telling me she's in. I didn't mean for it to happen, but I'm not sorry for it either."

Harry's nostrils flare. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Draco rakes his fingers through his hair. "She's in, Harry."

"_You PROPOSITIONED her?" _

"No, no," he manages while leaning away from Harry. Maybe he's never been violent before, but Draco's not keen on risking a welt on his cheek that lasts for over a day. "She called me on it. Apparently neither of us have been discreet. "

Red blooms across his cheeks and Potter stares at his feet. "Oh," slips between his lips. "I see. So, you weren't trying to sleep with her."

He snorts. "I was trying _not _to sleep with her, which is incredibly fucking hard when she's staring at me the way she does." He recalls needing a ridiculously cold shower after having her pressed against him for so long. "I told her I didn't want her without you."

"Right, because we share." Potter nods.

Well aware of how dense he's been, Draco knows he doesn't have much room to judge, but it _can't _be that hard to figure out. Even Potter can't be this oblivious.

"If you're looking for my permission—"

Draco shoots off the sofa. He swallows the shocked sound that slips out of Harry while crushing his lips to his. "You're so fucking annoying."

"Is that why you're kissing me?" It's breathless, and fingers latch onto Draco's shirt as he tugs him closer.

"No," Draco tightens his fingers in Harry's hair and forces him to look up at him. "I'm kissing you because I love you."

Fingers trace a path along the hem of his shirt, and they sneak under to press against heated flesh. "And Hermione?"

He doesn't want to talk, but they should. "You told me it would be all or nothing. I'm in."

The slamming of a door causes them to pull away, and Draco frowns. "That must have been her. We should—"

Harry tilts his head toward the window, his features drawn. "She's leaving."

Draco doesn't believe him, but when he comes to the window for a better look—even though they're right beside it—he can see Granger stepping into a cab. "I don't understand."

Fumbling with his phone, Harry's face crumbles. "Goes straight to voicemail. Maybe she isn't as serious as we are, Draco."

That's not it. It can't be.

"You didn't hear her last night. She and I—we're on the same page."

For all the times they call her, Granger never answers, and the only thing worse than the sudden hole in his chest is the way Potter can barely talk.

* * *

**The second and final part will upload next Friday! I hope that you liked this, it feels like baring a piece of what I hope is development in my writing. (Please be advised that I frequently misuse bear vs bare.) **

**Talk to me here, or on tumblr at mrsren96! I sincerely hope you've enjoyed the first half of this little story. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I can't believe that I was so excited to post last week that I totally forgot to name my beta. Like, how dare I? Anyway, this piece would not have been nearly as polished as it was if it weren't for NuclearNik and her killer beta skills. She and Frumpologist encouraged me all the way through my self-doubt, which there was a chunk of that to work through. **

**Thank you for reading! I know I said I would update Friday, but I am uploading a special chapter of The Best of Me that day and wanted to stagger my updates!**

* * *

Potter doesn't touch him in the days that follow, and for what it's worth, Draco gives him space. Not that it means anything, he figures, since all they're doing is delaying the ache that's going to return whenever they reopen the wound. It's bad enough that Harry doesn't touch him—not even to reassure him as he seemed to do constantly when he noticed something was wrong.

He thinks it'd be easier if that's all it is, but every time they meet, Potter flinches at the sight of him at first.

It guts Draco.

At this point, all he can think about is knocking on her door—he knows where she lives, of course, and maybe he's already driven by a few times—and asking her just what in the bloody _fuck_ is her problem.

It's probably him. Even if it doesn't make sense given the time they'd spent dancing, it's still the only thing that can be the piece they're missing.

Potter is certainly not the issue.

"I can't stop thinking about it." He stretches across the bed, and runs his fingers along Draco's bicep.

It's so unexpected, though fully welcomed, that Draco jumps. He lifts his gaze, finding that dark strands have fallen into his face as Harry shuffles closer to him. Moonlight cuts across the bed and he still slides even closer. "I know."

"I just don't understand." He slips against Draco, and Harry throws his leg over Draco's. "She won't reply to my messages. I've called and I've texted, but..." If anything is going to twist the knife a little deeper, it's being forced to see the way Harry's face crumbles. "I wouldn't be angry if she changed her mind."

Draco sincerely doubts that's happened, but there is the irritating fact that he doesn't know what happened that night in the manor. Granger had been there one moment, her body pressed to his as she slid off the sofa, and then she'd been gone. The moment has been running through his mind in double time ever since.

"I just don't want to lose her as my friend too." His voice hitches.

Swallowing, Draco drags a hand down his face. "It'd be my fault if you did." He can't say it hasn't crossed his mind as well.

Warmth spreads over his skin as Harry peppers kisses across his collarbone, calloused fingers running up the length of his forearms as he straddles Draco's waist. "I would never blame you."

It's what he hopes is true, but Draco can't shake the suspicion that it might change if Granger says that's exactly why. "You don't have to promise me anything."

Potter tugs at his joggers, and shifts to the side to shove them all the way down awkwardly as he climbs back into Draco's lap. "Maybe not, but I don't blame you." The words come in a laboured breath as he snakes his hands up Draco's sides, threading their fingers together, pushing them up until they knock against the headboard.

And it's all Draco can think; it's on the tip of his tongue as they press against one another.

_I love you. _

* * *

Things change after that night but only slightly, and it's nowhere near enough.

Harry doesn't flinch anymore, and he doesn't shy away from physical intimacy. _But_, Draco knows that something has undeniably shifted between them, and there is no going back. Suddenly, where there's always been an air of nonchalance—though _apparently_, that had been Draco's denial—their relationship locks together.

There's something missing, and while he hasn't spoken it out loud for fear Harry will shut down again, Draco knows something has to give. Either way, however, they need to confront the situation. It would be easier if Granger wasn't hiding.

Swallowing as he steps out of his car, Draco kicks the door shut. By the time Potter figures out where he's actually gone, he's likely to be furious, but Draco can't bring himself to feel guilty.

Either they're willing to split open, or they stay in this terrible fucking limbo until the tension ebbs, and that could take—

Suffice to say, Draco's not willing to wait.

He reminds himself of the way her body felt pressed to him while they danced in the middle of the night as he climbs the iron stairs leading up. Each step is slow, and he has more than enough time to change his mind, but he ignores those whispering thoughts.

When he knocks on the door, there are hurried footsteps on the other side and a muffled, "Hang on!" And when the door swings open, Draco shoves his foot forward so she can't slam the door in his face. "Fuck," falls from her lips and it sums up the situation so nicely it's comical.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Draco's voice climbs an octave, and a nosy neighbour cracks their window. "Potter might be willing to give you all the time in the world, but I assure you I am _not_ going to do the same."

Red spreads across her cheeks and her hand slips down the door before eventually falling to her side. "Honestly, I'm more surprised it took you this long to show up." Granger's mutter isn't quiet enough to escape him, and she steps to the side. "If you're planning to yell, please come inside."

Her neighbour still hasn't stepped away.

"I don't want to yell at you."

She arches a brow as he steps over the threshold, and the door closes with a soft click as she flips the lock into place. "I find that hard to believe."

Her flat is sparsely decorated. In the corner, there's a stack of books because there's no room for them on the already overflowing shelves. Draco considers sitting down beside her when she sits on the sofa, but honestly, even now he can't help wanting to lean into her.

He perches on the edge of her coffee table instead and laces his fingers together as he rests his elbows on his knees. "Admittedly, I would have reacted badly had Potter not prevented me from coming here that same day."

"I wasn't here." Granger rolls her shoulder, and then stretches her head from side to side. She's nervous, and he's not sure what to make of it. "I, erm—I stayed with my parents that night. I assumed one or both of you would come here."

That bit of information only serves to increase his anger. "I expected you to do a lot of things—call _him_ at the very least since he's your best friend—but hiding like a coward wasn't one of them."

She bristles at the accusation but doesn't deny it. How can she?

"I went back to grab my jacket," she says as she fidgets with a loose string of her jumper. "I saw the two of you and you were closer than I'd ever seen. It struck me then that involving myself could…"

His boot knocks against her foot. "Granger."

The utterance of her name spurs her on. "I don't want to come between the two of you. I could never forgive myself if I ruined what the two of you have."

His thoughts stop.

Draco's lips part and his mouth falls open as he stares at her. It's been fucking _days_. "You're—" He chokes. "Are you serious?"

"If you could manage not to laugh at this for just a minute, that would be great, Malfoy."

"You must be the daftest woman I've ever met." Draco's tongue slides along his lower lip, and he can't help the rasp that takes over his voice. "Granger, we were on the same page that night. I thought you understood that we—"

She shakes her head, unruly curls falling into her face. "It was selfish of me, and then," her fingers are trembling and she tightly laces them together, "I overheard you when you told him you loved him, and it made me stop to consider the fact that I would come between the two of you."

He can't bloody _believe_ this is why.

This he could have fixed days ago, but instead, his two little fools had chosen to simper in silence without letting anyone else in.

"Granger," he pulls her hands apart and threads their fingers together.

She jumps a bit at that, not expecting the contact, but it's impossible to miss the way she melts into him within moments. "I would rather not destroy the relationship the two of you have. Before," Granger watches his thumb trace a path of her knuckles, "I thought that it might not be as serious as it was and that it would be easier for me to be with you—both of you—but it's not that way."

"It's exactly that way. Sure, it's terrifying. I realised I was on the outside of my emotions the night at the manor. What you heard was the first time I'd ever told Potter. Had I known it would spook you, I would have been blatantly clear with you the night before." He leans closer toward her, and her eyes dilate. "I just wanted to say it to him first."

"You don't owe me an explanation."

"Apparently I do since you were so worried that you decided ignoring us was the best option."

She squeezes his hand, and whether she means to or not, Granger rests her head on his shoulder. It's an uncomfortable position, he thinks, and Draco pulls her into his lap. As her legs bracket his, Granger squeaks and her head whips up. "This isn't—"

He rubs her back. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to. I'm never going to pressure you, I swear."

"You love him."

His eyes widen a bit. It's just so surreal hearing it from someone else when he's barely gotten used to it himself. "I do."

"Then—" Granger accidentally rubs against him, and she freezes. Draco wonders if she's about to fumble an apology, but then that's the _last _thing that comes out of her mouth. "You can't want this. Harry feels the same, and I'm a part that doesn't… fit. I can't be what you want."

The snort is ill-timed, and she does look a bit miffed that he's laughing at her. Draco rubs her hips, a slow path that he traces while watching her lips part. "I sincerely hope you're not about to tell me you know what I want more than I do."

"You love _him_."

"Granger," his fingers grip the sides of her waist, "I love you. We _both_ do."

"You can't." But she's shuffled closer to him anyway, and she focuses on the buttons of his shirt. "Not because it's impossible to have a third person in a relationship—"

He wants to point out that he knows exactly what she means, but Draco hopes that her ramble might lead to something else.

She continues to babble, and all he really wants to do is slant his lips over hers in hopes that everything will miraculously fall into place.

"It's just that _you _can't love me. It's possible that Harry could—he's known me for so long, and it might make sense."

Draco returns to rubbing her back, and he's glad she doesn't shove his hands away.

Truthfully, he's worried that she might be having an anxiety attack as her cheeks turn red and she speaks faster than she ought to.

"But you?"

"Me?" Draco murmurs, and his tone is laced with offence.

She sinks her fingers into her hair and nibbles her bottom lip—which are all things he wants to do. "You barely know me."

_That's the argument she's going with? _

"I've known you for the same exact amount of time Potter has."

"Does it really count when—"

"I know that on your birthday, you still stay up until midnight because Ron is always the first one to call you. I know that when you were fourteen, you had a rather embarrassing moment with Krum due to your braces—"

Her eyes narrow. "You know that because you spread it around the school!"

_Semantics_. "You cry during nearly every documentary on animal wildlife there is, and you're so fiercely protective of those that can't defend themselves. I know you're favourite colour is green, but not a dark green because you're ridiculously particular about that as you are everything else."

Granger doesn't say anything. In fact, it barely looks like she's breathing.

Still, he wracks his brain for every bloody thing he's ever noticed about her because as Draco thinks about it, he's watched her for a long time. Longer than he'd ever admitted to himself. "Your favourite animals are otters and orcas. You can't decide which one you love more since you saw them on holiday with your parents while on a boat. And anytime it's mentioned that you could see them all the time in captivity if you wanted, you lose your shit."

"It isn't fair," she whispers. "But these are all things anyone could know about me, Draco."

"Maybe so, but are those things you would expect me to pay attention to if I didn't care? Granger, I'm not going to lie. Sure, I don't know a lot of things about you, but I'm certain that every time I see a bloody otter or an orca or anything that I can associate with you, I think of _you_."

Her fingers grip his forearms.

"And I have for a long time." There's a moment of silence, but he can't stop talking. "I'm not saying all of this in order to pressure you into saying three little words back to me. I would be worried if you did, truthfully, but I am asking you if this is what you want. If it's not, just fucking tell me so I can pick up what's left of my pride."

Granger cups his cheek, and he doesn't care that she watches as he nuzzles it when it might be the only chance he gets to do so. "I want both of you, but now that I've wasted time by running away…"

"Potter's feelings haven't changed."

Slowly, far too slowly for his liking, she nods.

He wants to kiss her still, but she doesn't lean in and he doesn't explain that he wants to wait until they're all on the same page. Still, Draco indulges himself by sitting there for several moments leading up to an hour with her sitting in his lap while rubbing her back and her breaths trickles across his throat.

* * *

When Potter walks through the door, muttering, "What's the fucking emergency? I had to cancel on Ron," he stops dead in his tracks. "Hermione?"

Draco's leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "Granger and I had a chat today. I figured your pub night could wait for this."

He nods dumbly but doesn't take a step forward like he can't quite wrap his head around the fact that she's there. "You two talked?"

Granger nods, brushing hair from her face. "Draco came to my flat."

"I told you to respect her privacy, you know." Potter tries to scowl, but it falls flat as Granger comes to stand in front of him. "You're here."

Cocking her head to the side, Granger smiles. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I thought I would be destroying your relationship if I involved myself."

"That's silly. I could have told you that a week ago."

She laughs, and Potter holds her face gently in his hands. "I have to admit, I'm rather nervous. I don't know where this goes next, though I know where I _want _it to go…"

Potter brushes his thumb against the bow of her lips. "We don't have to move too fast. We could grab dinner, or—"

Draco swallows his laugh, knowing that there's not a fucking chance Granger'is going for that when the two of them have been steeped in sexual tension—and frustration—over the last hour while waiting for Potter.

"I don't want dinner," she whispers and stretches up to kiss him lightly. "I want _you_, both of you. I rather think I'm tired of waiting. Aren't you?"

Harry grips her hips and picks her up, bringing his lips to hers. "So fucking tired." It's a growl as he carries her across the sitting room and into the bedroom, kicking the door open as he goes.

"Oh," Draco snorts. "After you."

She giggles and laces her fingers into black hair, tightening her legs around his waist.

Draco unbuttons his shirt while she makes quick work of her own, tossing it into the floor where it joins his oxford. Climbing onto the bed, Draco's back is to the headboard, and he groans at the sight before him.

Calloused hands close around her waist, and the bra she's wearing is a lacy green colour—a dark green, which he thinks is a treat meant for him. Harry lets her go as the mattress dips below his knee, and she crawls toward Draco.

"Hi," she whispers and reaches for him. "We've been here, haven't we?"

Pulling her to sit on his lap again, Draco kisses her roughly, and she eagerly returns it. It's all her nibbling his lower lip, dragging her nails down his chest—over his sensitive nipples—and his groan is met with a soft, little laugh that he's certain is going to be the fucking death of him.

Potter sits on his knees behind her and kisses a path from her shoulder to her throat, where he bits down until she cries out. He unclasps her bra, discarding it without a thought. "You're so bloody responsive, 'Mione."

She grinds down on Draco again, and his cock hardens through his jeans. Granger murmurs that she can't help it.

Her breasts are fucking gorgeous. Draco is pretty sure he tells her just that, but it's terribly hard to keep track of all the things running through his mind, so he chooses to act. Stroking one idly as he rolls her nipple softly between his fingers, Draco runs his tongue over the over.

Granger's hips stutter against his.

He sucks the pert tip into his mouth and watches her closely with each stroke of his tongue.

There's going to be marks on her throat in the morning from Potter, and it gives him a sense of triumph that she certainly won't be remembering Oliver fucking Wood after tonight.

Her eyes flutter closed as her back arches a bit, pressing her breasts toward him, and she leans up to kiss Potter. "Harry…" she moans.

She's trembling when Harry slips his hand in front of her, running it down her stomach until his fingers brush the edge of her bottoms. "Did you know that you're practically torturing poor Draco when you wear these?"

Her response is cut short as Harry's hand slides even further, under the stretchy material, and he presses his fingers to her clit. Granger jerks, digs her nails into Draco's shoulders, and keens. "I didn't—I didn't know. If—" She whimpers, and all he wants is to see exactly what Potter is doing to her. "If it's such a problem, we should take them off."

"Brilliant." Draco breathes. He misses the feel of her as she moves off of him, shoving the form-fitting bottoms down her legs. "Come sit against me. Back to my chest."

She does exactly that, and Harry's eyes darken at the sight of her nearly completely bare. He kneels in front of her, parting her legs while kissing a slow path down her abdomen, fingers flexing around the top of her thighs as she twitches. Granger breathes his name and twists against Draco.

Draco pinches her nipple lightly, rolling it between his fingers and watching her sink her hands into Potter's hair.

He drags his lips over her knickers, ignoring the soft whine she gives them, and takes his time kissing every inch of her legs. Up her calves and over her thighs, and Draco can see the elated grin that curves his lips.

"'Mione?" he breathes, hooking his fingers into either side of her knickers.

She nods, and really, it's a jerky motion, and her head falls back to Draco's shoulder. Granger's lips press to the hollow of his throat, tongue tracing his pulse as it quickens. "Harry, _please_."

With his cock hardening and her already rubbing against him, Draco leans down. He wraps her hair around his knuckles. "You heard her, Potter," he murmurs, his breath crawling across her neck. "It's impolite to keep a woman waiting."

She nods breathlessly and sighs in relief when Potter finally peels her knickers down. "_Oh_!"

Draco chuckle is muffled against her skin when her nails dig into his thighs, and she presses herself closer to the man between her thighs. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this."

Her breath catches. "God."

He untangles his fingers from her hair—and if it weren't for the unbelievable situation he'd found himself in, it would have been comical how hard that was—and threads them into Potter's hair. Nudging him, Draco pulls lightly, bringing the man's mouth against her folds while holding him there.

A loud, keening moan falls from her, and Granger turns her head to the side before kissing him desperately. "Wanted this that night," she whispers.

"I know you did."

Potter pumps two fingers inside her and laps at her clit with broad strokes of his tongue. He holds eye contact with Draco, and fucking hell, Draco knows he's done for before anything truly gets started.

"I'm so sorry—" Granger starts.

He grips her chin and tilts it towards him. Draco kisses her roughly, smirking when her teeth close around his lower lip and she whimpers into his mouth. "He's good with his tongue, isn't he, sweetheart?"

A shiver makes her shake, and Draco puts that information away for later. So, she _likes_ pet names.

He can work with that.

Her eyes flutter shut and her back arches. "So good." Her voice is weak, broken between two syllables. "Oh, God…"

"Perfect, you could say," Draco smiles.

"I'm so—" She moans, twisting into his chest, and draws a ragged breath.

Honestly, she's moved herself into an impossible angle, and Draco tries to adjust her but she cries out before he gets the chance.

A shriek blankets his flat and her thighs close around Harry's head, and Draco seizes the moment to kiss her, bracing his fingers against the nape of her neck. He swallows the wanton sounds for himself as her release crests and she whimpers.

Granger slumps against him while Harry crawls up the bed. Lips slant over his, and he can taste _her_ on Harry's lips, on his tongue as it brushes his own. "_Fuck,"_ Draco groans.

She fumbles with the button of his trousers and tugs at them until he lifts his hips. Granger doesn't bother with pulling them off properly before stroking him through his boxers and then pulling them down.

A coy smile tilts her lips as she wraps her fingers around his length, but Granger keeps her gaze on him as she shifts onto her knees, leaning over. Her lips close around the tip, and her cheeks hollow when she takes him into her mouth.

His hips jerk and Potter presses a hand to his chest, holding him in place. He kisses him harder than he ever has before, and Draco's brain short circuits when he pulls away. Draco reaches for Harry, but his eyes widen as he watches the two of them settle on their knees.

Harry drags his tongue up the length of his cock while she sucks the tip into her pretty mouth, and he fondles Draco's sac gently.

He's never been so close to coming in his life.

The image of his release covering both of their faces doesn't do anything to help matters.

Draco's certain that he's the luckiest bloke alive when he watches them take turns sucking him. All that comes from him are muffled curses once he realises that Hermione Granger is a bloody little tease.

He's going to fuck her until she doesn't want to leave the bed for the entire weekend, he decides.

She climbs into his lap again and presses her lips to his in what must be the softest kiss of his life. "Is this okay?" Granger nibbles her lip prettily.

_Is it okay? _

_Is she serious? _

Draco holds onto her hips tightly as she sinks down onto him.

Granger feels like everything he's imagined and so much fucking more as he fills her. She moans his name and rocks against him.

Potter peppers kisses across her shoulders, whispering muted compliments of how goddamn pretty she is, how fucking good her cunt tastes.

She buries her face in his shoulder, leaving what are sure to be dark lovebites in the morning while she rides him.

"Oh, my fucking—" Draco chokes out a rasp when her cunt clenches around him and her arms tighten around his neck. She breaks apart as she moves against him, flashing him a bright smile as her lips part.

Draco follows soon after.

* * *

The mattress dips.

He cracks one eye open and freezes when a familiar groan pieces the air. Suddenly, Draco knows _exactly_ why he'd woken up. He's greeted with the dark red of the alarm clock informing him it's only minutes past three, and the sight of Potter sliding into Hermione. Her legs are over his shoulders, pushed toward her chest as he leans over her, and he's got her wrists held over her head.

It's a bloody good sight, and Draco thinks he'd like to wake up to it every morning.

"We have an audience." Harry murmurs as he drives into her. "Seems you weren't as quiet as you said you'd be."

Draco rolls onto his side, blond hair dropping into his face as he closes his lips around her pert nipple. "She was perfectly quiet, which is a terrible shame."

"I, ah," she moans as he thrusts into her again, "I didn't want to wake you."

"Fucking wake me up next time," Draco snorts. He smooths his palm down her stomach, and his fingers find her clit.

She's bloody soaked. Granger's a keening mess from the way she lifts her hips to the way she arches her back and cries out both of their names. "Want you both…"

"We'll work up to that, sweetheart." Draco draws her nipple between his teeth before switching. "We have plenty of time." As Harry's pace quickens, Draco asks, "Do you like when he holds you down?"

Which, of course, she does. Potter would never do it otherwise.

But she nods eagerly, making a show of straining against Harry's grip. "She's bratty, Malfoy. I discovered that while you were asleep."

Granger looks like the cat that got the cream, however, and both men are putty in her hands. Somehow, he's pretty sure they'll have their hands full.

Fuck, it's a good thought.

He strokes her clit, the speed of his fingers quickening as she cries out that she's close, _so close. _

She's babbling, begging for Harry to go _faster_, and her hips lift off the bed.

His neighbours likely already hated him, Draco knows, but they certainly must after her scream rattles the flat. Granger curls up beside him, nuzzling his shoulder as Harry slips behind her and pulls the blanket over them.

Draco massages her wrists, peppering kisses over where fingers had been locked around them moments earlier. "You all right, Granger?"

She yawns and reaches blindly behind her for Harry. "You have to call me Hermione sometimes."

He smirks. "After you answer the question."

There's a pink blush that spans across her cheeks, and she opens one eye. "I'm great." A soft snore comes from behind them, and she giggles. "Does he always do that?"

"Unfortunately."

She taps her fingertips against his chest and tilts her head up. "Harry told me he loved me while you were asleep. That's why we were…" Hermione swallows. "It didn't make any sense when you told me you loved me yesterday, and I think if I dwell on it too much I might question it again, but I think I understand now."

All of his thoughts come to a hard stop. Draco's eyes widen when she kisses the corner of his mouth. "Hermione, you don't have to say anything."

"Well, I am." She slips her arm over his hip and rests in the pillow of his arm. "I love you, even if it doesn't make sense. I love you."

He can't ruddy think, and this woman is—

Draco blurts, "I love you so fucking much." He crushes his lips to hers and kisses her until neither of them can breathe. "All I want is you and Potter until you're sick of me."

"And if we're never sick of you?" she teases.

It sounds like heaven.

Hermione nips his earlobe. "Love you, Malfoy." She settles down and whispers for him to sleep since they have a long day ahead of them tomorrow. "I think it's only fair that I get to watch you and Harry since you watched _us." _

He makes a joke that this would have been easier to resolve if she'd admitted to being a voyeur earlier, but then she whispers it again.

Even when she drifts to sleep, she turns to where she can hold onto Harry as well, and Draco wraps an arm around her middle.

_I love you. _

_I think I've always loved you. _

* * *

**That's a wrap on this little short story. I may write dramionarry again since this was so much fun for me. I am still working on a Draco/Hermione/Theo multichapter, and I am writing a short story Draco/Harry for NuclearNik. Which brings me to a request I have for you guys. **

**What can I improve? Writing slash is something that's always spooked me because it's extremely new to me. I'm writing a triad multichapter, with a lot of slash included it, as well as the drarry, and I don't want to fall on my face. Please message me privately if you don't mind (I'd love to open dialogue with someone about the do's and don't's) and you've noticed something I'm off kilter with. PM me here or you can email me via google mail. Mrsrenfanfiction and then add the domain name. **

**As always, I'd love to hear if you liked it as well! **


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